The Cannon Romance
by abbhorase
Summary: Earlier today (and yesterday) I was prompted to write a story based off of a very...strange set of parameters. Thank you again Barbacar for doing so. MabIfica.


She was late.

Again.

Why was she always late?

Pacifica sat with a weary look, her mind all to similar to the smoke aggressively blown from her nose with every puff of her cheap cigar. The cold concrete of a marriage gazebo lay beneath her, and ahead were 8 rows on either side of an isle filled with mostly empty plastic chairs and scattered, bright green plant materials.

It was perfect. It was prepaid. It was everything Pacifica could have wanted, down to the finest wrinkle on the preachers face, sitting there, bored and fanning himself with a paperback bible.

She took a draw, blew a smoke ring, and still sighed at the thought of being left at the alter.

Her father, sitting next to her mother, checked his watch impatiently. God only knows he had better places to be and by the look on his shriveled face and the waving of his folded legs, the time to reach those places was fast approaching.

Flakes of lukewarm ash fell to Pacifica's gown, perfect and white and low cut just as she and her lover had wanted.

There was a time when she would have cared, but that time was long passed.

Beyond the white, vine encrusted fence came a blue car with _Phillips wedding cake and funeral service_ printed in what looked like comic sans on the side.

"There's always more fish in the sea." The preacher said in his low, struggled voice.

"And I guess this one just jumped the plate." replied Pacifica, setting her head onto one of her hands.

Her father cast a disapproving glance at her thick cigar, not for her smoking problem but for the cheapskate mentality with which it had been bought.

time passed.

the sun cast low, casting shadows far from the direct overhead light she was hoping to be married under.

her fathers brow crept lower as he cast another look to his watch. with a long, nasal sigh he took Pricilla's hand and stood, calling impatiently to Pacifica, "we don't have time for this. goodbye, Pacifica."

"w-wait!" she stammered out, suddenly at attention. anything to keep them here, she knew Mabel would show up sooner or later. "Mabel and I put a lot of work into finding the perfect cake and it'd be a shame for it to go to waste."

"there are plenty of cakes in the world and-"

"But there will only ever be one Mabel." She cut in, unconsciously flinching at her father, reaching for one of his breast pockets. "Please, dad..."

It would have been impossible for her father to resist the sad puppydog eyes Pacifica - magically - conjured up. With a sigh, he answered, "...fine."

"A-alright. It's just in the pavilion outside." in a fit of frantic desire she sprung up, took one parent's hand run in a jog as fast as her now ash stained gown would let her, and drug the pair out of the crosshatch doors and around a corner.

Everything was set up; 42 inch speakers, a disk jockey stoned off her tits, dynamic mood lighting - perfect, just as she wanted it.

"If I had just..." Pacifica mumbled to herself, slowing down with the pace of her parents.

"Just _what,_ darling?" Her mother asked, narrowing her eyes and digging the spikes of her heels into the ground.

"Oh, nothing. Just...talking to myself." She answered, putting a forced smile onto her face. It was practiced and restrained for the express purpose of satisfying her parents and, by the roll of their eyes and drop in resistant, it worked.

The unreasonably large cake sat on a table opposite the dance floor and the disk jockey but just in front of 3 rows of 4 circular tables, every one with 'one centerpiece for every month, every month you'll spend happy together,' or so said their catering company.

slowly but surely, the other guests followed their suit. they came in a line, Dipper, Soos, Stanford and Stanly Pines, and Wendy with a baby held in one arm.

 _all right, how's this gonna go?_ she asked herself in preparation for the disappointment of her guests. she and her parents stood ready in front of the cake, another puff of the cigar drug in an attempt to calm Pacifica down.

they came and stood, just as they were supposed to, facing the cake and waiting. idle chit-chat made it less awkward as she hastily concocted a speech, looking to the side and again mumbling to herself.

"okay." she said to herself with a sigh, casting a glance to her parents before looking back into the crowd and standing up straight. "everyone! everyone. I would like to apologize for calling you all out here today when the groom decided not to show up." the reality of the situation stuck into her with every word. "I guess... she just didn't want to be here or...something...I guess." he speech was falling apart at the seams.

Wendy and Dipper cast a glance to one another, barely suppressing a giggle as dipper slunk off somewhere without the notice of Pacifica.

"What? what's so funny?" Pacifica asked, looking up and around, scanning for anything different.

"It's nothing!" Wendy answered, bouncing the child in her arms ever so slightly.

"So, yeah...that's the situation." Pacifica finished, reaching behind her for anything to cut the cake with. "so who want's cake-"

"NOW!" screamed Wendy, leaning forward in emphasis. the start was almost enough to snap the cigar from Pacifica's fingers.

"Whaaa...!" Pacifica started before she heard and explosion behind her. she dropped the knife, cowering over as chunks of red velvet cake and cinnamon frosting carpeted her gown.

Except for one piece, it felt too large for a chunk of cake.

A body flung itself onto her and pulled her back into a massive hug.

That feeling... that smell... the way her hands moved over Pacifica's body...

"MABEL?!" Pacifica screamed in disbelief.

"Surprise!" Mabel answered, curling her head over Pacifica's shoulder. "Did you miss me?"

"We'd been planning this for the past like - 3 weeks." Wendy said with a massive smile cracking her face as she scraped cake off of her face.

"You don't know how hard it was to keep you in the dark about all this." Dipper said to Pacifica. "I didn't think you could possibly be so nosy."

"Well she certainly has one heck of a nose!" Mabel put in, reaching up from Pacifica's chest to squeeze her lover's nose.

"I...I..." started Pacifica, in a state of severe shock.

"What is it?" someone asked.

"I don't know what to say."

"Oh, come on!" Mabel called, happily impatient. "We doin' this my way." she picked a weakly screaming Pacifica up, carrying her away from the pavilion. Pacifica cast a long look at her parents, cowering with a smattering of cake in stark contrast to the smiling yet still cake spattered mass of other standing.

She looked back to Mabel. either her savior or her condemnation, she was Mabel. Pacifica didn't know why she thought mabel would change when she was Mabel. she was perfect.

"So what is, 'your way,' again?"

"The large bore tracked artillery they wheeled in about an hour ago." Mabel answered, looking ahead somewhere with a broadening smile.

"Wait, whaaa..." she looked ahead to where Mabel was looking.

it was an antique gunship cannon, the kind with a fuse instead of anything else attached.

"Put me down, please." Pacifica asked to Mabel's compliance. the pair ran over, Mabel giggling excitedly over Pacifica's welcoming confusion.

"I need that." Mabel said, taking the still lit cigar from Pacifica's fingers. she ran over, pointing the cannon down to allow Pacifica to climb inside feet first.

the sound of gunpowder sparking away filled the air, accompanied by Mabel's rapid footfall, stuffing her torso into the muzzle, kicking off to give it angle, and sliding in.

"I love you, Pacifica." Mabel said from deep within the barrel.

"I love you too, Mabel." she said.

it was a perfect day, their dissapearing twinkle among the first twilight stars.

* * *

This went better than expected.


End file.
